The Pretenders (6 page)

Reeve, lucky man, was riding. I looked longingly out the window of the chaise at his tall, long-legged figure and thought for about the thousandth time in my life that he really did have the most wonderful seat on a horse. He was always right over his mount’s center of balance, which made all his horses’ gaits so much better than they would be if they were impeded by someone leaning forward on their shoulders or backward on their loins (as was the case with ninety-nine percent of the English riders that I saw).

Reeve had always been the model I strove to emulate. His kind of balance was more difficult to attain in a sidesaddle, where one had the use of only one leg, but most of the time I thought I at least came close to it.

“I do hope this party goes off quietly,” Mama said.

I heard the nervousness she was trying to hide. Poor Mama. She did not like conflict, and I was certain she was not looking forward to the next few weeks.

“The very fact that there will be other people in the house besides Lord Bradford and Reeve will help to keep things civilized, Mama,” I said.

She perked up a little. “That is true.”

“I wonder who else will be there?” I said. ”Reeve told me that we could expect to see Lord Bradford’s three children, but I hope to God it is not just a family party. From what Reeve tells me, he does not get on with his cousin Robert very well.”

The chaise hit a rock on the road and bounced. Mama grabbed the strap next to her, and I braced my foot against the seat that faced me.

“Lord Bradford told me that he would invite some friends of his from Hampshire,” Mama said a little breathlessly. ”A Mr. and Mrs. Norton, I believe. They have a son and a daughter about your age, dear.”

I looked at her with surprise. “Is there anything else that Lord Bradford saw fit to impart to you and not to us?”

Mama smiled. “No, dearest, that is all.”

I sighed and once more looked out the window at Reeve. “I wish I could ride,” I said wistfully.

“You will be able to ride while we are staying with Lord Bradford,” Mama said. Her voice became more sober. ”I must confess, this whole scheme of Reeve’s is making me more and more uneasy. How are you going to call off this engagement after you have been introduced to all of his family, Deborah?”

“We’ll just say that we do not suit,” I said.

Mama gave me an extremely doubtful look.

I turned my back on Reeve and gave my mother my full attention. “The important thing is for Reeve to get control of his money, Mama. I’m afraid that if he has to wait another two years, he might not be alive to inherit at all.”

Mama’s sky-blue eyes looked shocked. “Surely you cannot be serious, Deborah?”

“I might be,” I said gravely. ”There has been a feeling of… desperation… about him lately that I do not like at all.”

Mama was silent, and I turned to look back out the window. We were driving through a forest of beech trees at the moment, and the sun shone in dappled patches through the branches of the trees that overhung the road. Reeve rode in and out of the sunshine, too, now in shadow, now in light. I felt a tightness in my chest.

Please God
, I found myself praying,
make Lord Bradford give Reeve his money
.

“Do you think the accident still haunts him, dear?’ I heard Mama’s voice ask.

For a moment I pressed my forehead against the glass of the window. I felt as if I had a headache coming on, which was ridiculous. I never had headaches.

“Of course it does,” I answered. ”In some ways, it probably always will. But if he has some kind of purpose in his life, something to think about besides himself and his own guilt, I’m convinced that it will help enormously.”

Mama said in a voice that sounded oddly worried, “You care for him a great deal, don’t you, Deborah?”

I turned to give her a warm smile. “Of course I do. Reeve has always been my best friend in the world.” The ache in my head was growing more pronounced. “Will you mind if I lower this window a little so we can get some air, Mama? I feel as if I might be getting a headache from being cooped up for so long.”

“No, of course not, dear,” Mama said. ”Open it as much as you like.”

Fifteen minutes later Reeve shouted something to me and pointed ahead. I rolled the window all the way down and stuck my head out to see what it was he was gesturing at.

We were still driving through the beech woods of the South Downs, but now the chaise was climbing up a long, steep hill. In a few minutes time, we came out of the woods and there, at the end of a tree-enclosed drive, was a welcoming old two-storied house built of a silvery pink brick that was a particularly lovely color. Dormer windows peered out of the hipped roof, and there was a pediment crown over the front. Two single-story outbuilding blocks jutted on either side.

“Don’t hang out the window like that, Deborah,” Mama said. ”It is not good manners.”

She was smoothing her skirts and putting her bonnet and gloves back on, and I did the same. By the time the chaise pulled up in front of Wakefield Manor, we were ready to be handed down gallantly by Reeve.

Lord Bradford was waiting to greet us. “Welcome, Mrs. Woodly,” he said to Mama. “Welcome, Miss Woodly. I am so pleased to have you as my guests.”

He took Mama’s arm to escort her up the steps, and Reeve and I followed behind.

“What a pretty house,” I said to Reeve.

“You haven’t seen the best part yet,” he returned. ”It looks just like any other house from this side, but when you look out any of the windows on the other three sides you will see that Wakefield is actually situated right on the very top of the Downs. The views are magnificent.”

“How lovely.”

We were in the hall by now, and Lord Bradford said, “I’ll have my housekeeper show you and Miss Woodly to your rooms, Mrs. Woodly. Then perhaps you will join me for tea in the front drawing room and I will make you known to our other guests.”

“Thank you,” Mama said.

“I believe you have been given your usual room, Reeve,” Lord Bradford said next. ”You do not require a guide?”

“Not at all, Bernard,” Reeve said blandly.

Lord Bradford’s steady gray eyes regarded his young cousin. “It has been a long time since you visited Wakefield,” he said. “I don’t believe you have been here since your father died.”

Reeve’s face darkened. “You know the reason for that, Bernard.”

“Yes, I fear that I do.”

Reeve turned toward the stairs.

“Reeve,” Lord Bradford said. Impatiently, Reeve swung back. ”I am happy to welcome you also.”

Reeve nodded his head. “Thank you,” he said. He made an infinitesimal shooing motion in my direction, and I turned and walked firmly up the stairs.

Mama and I had adjoining bedrooms, and I had never inhabited such a large chamber in my life. That is, I couldn’t ever remember inhabiting such a large chamber. I supposed that in my earlier years, before John Woodly had ejected Mama and me from my father’s house, I might have lived in such a room.

It was bright. That was what I liked about it most of all. The walls were painted a pale gold, the old tapestry bedspread was a faded gold, the carpet over the polished-wood floor was also old and faded and lovely and the old four-poster was solid oak.

The room had a large window, and the warm summer breeze ruffled the drapes and filled the room with the scent of grass.

I thought of the low ceilings, small windows, and cramped rooms of our cottage at home. This room alone was larger than our living room and dining room put together.

I remembered what Reeve had said about the views, walked to the open window, looked out, and felt my breath catch in my throat.

From where I stood, Wakefield Manor seemed to be perched on the very top of the world. With no trees to block the view, as there were in the front of the house, one could see how the stretching Downs fell away on the house’s every side. I leaned out the window, looked down, and saw in amazement that below me the green turf had actually been allowed to grow right up to the walls of the house itself. I inhaled deeply, and, mixed with the scent of the grass, I caught the whiff of salt air. Sure enough, in the far distance I could see just the faintest glimmer of the sea.

What a beautiful house
, I thought.
What a pity that it belongs to a man with as little sensitivity as Lord Bradford
.

I changed out of my wrinkled travel clothes into a sprigged-muslin afternoon dress and knocked on Mania’s door to see if she was ready. She was. Reeve was waiting for us at the top of the stairs, and all three of us went down to meet the rest of the party together.

The drawing room was bathed in the light let in by two large windows, and sitting majestically between the windows, on a striped silk sofa, was a white-haired old lady dispensing tea. The remainder of the party was grouped around her in old gilded chairs with needlepoint covers.

“Oh my God,” Reeve groaned in my ear, “it’s my Aunt Sophia.”

Lord Bradford came to the door to greet us and lead us to meet Reeve’s aunt, who fixed me with gimlet eyes that I could swear saw through to my very soul. I stared back and tried to look polite yet inscrutable.

“Lady Sophia Lambeth, may I present Miss Deborah Woodly,” Lord Bradford said.

“Hah,” the old lady with the gimlet eyes snorted.

“How do you, Lady Sophia,” I said, and curtsied.

Lord Bradford introduced Mama, who got the same greeting as I had. Then Lord Bradford took both our elbows in a firm grip and steered us away from the tyrant who was sitting on the sofa and took us around the room to introduce us to the others who were present.

First I met Mr. and Mrs. Norton, the neighbors from Hampshire, who appeared to be a pleasant couple in their forties. After them came Lord Bradford’s children,

Harry and Sally. Harry looked like his father, while Sally was a pretty girl with hazel eyes and brown hair. I knew from Reeve that Harry had just finished at Cambridge and that Sally was seventeen.

Miss Norton, who was seated next to Sally, looked to be about her age. I hoped that the girls had not read
The Corsair
, but from the looks on their faces as they stared at Reeve, I was very much afraid that they had.

Mama and I took seats, and Reeve went to get us some tea. I found myself seated next to Mr. Edmund Norton, a youthful gentleman who looked to be a few years younger than I. He had big brown eyes, floppy brown hair, and pink cheeks. He gazed at me with wide-eyed attention, and said a little shyly, “Did you have a tiring journey, Miss Woodly?”

“Not really. I don’t care to be confined in a coach for such a long period, but otherwise, I can’t complain,” I answered cheerfully.

He looked as if he wished to say something more but didn’t know what.

I helped him out by asking, “Are you at university, Mr. Norton?”

His pink cheeks grew a little pinker. “Yes,” he said. “I am at Cambridge.”

“Ah,” I said, and took a sip of my tea.

He looked at Reeve with a mixture of envy and awe. “They still talk about him there,” he said.

“I am sure they do,” I replied resignedly.

In fact, the painting of the Head’s house had only been the last in a long series of Reeve’s transgressions at college. The authorities had been very forbearing with him, really. After all, it had been more than usually up-setting to be forced to eject the heir of Lord Cambridge, who in the Middle Ages had been one of the school’s original patrons. But Reeve had been determined to get himself sent down, and eventually, of course, he had succeeded.

Miss Norton, who had her brother’s big brown eyes and shiny hair, was conversing shyly with Reeve. He appeared to be treating her kindly.

Then Lady Sophia’s voice cut through the polite chatter in the room. “Well, Reeve, what have you got to say for yourself?” she demanded.

We all looked at her. I judged her to be one of those ladies who had grown up in the previous century who had no notion of the modern idea of politeness. She would consider it mealy-mouthed not to say exactly what she thought, even if in so doing she trampled all over the feelings of the person whom she was addressing.

She had Reeve’s dark eyes and his nose, without the bump. In her youth she must have been a great beauty.